A Bat, a Buffoon and a Baby
by Words of Heresy
Summary: While incarcerated in Arkham the Joker bonds with Kat a young woman with a tragic past. When fate deals a cruel hand the Joker promises to find Kat's baby. Intrigued against his better judgment Batman finds himself assisting the Joker, and together they may yet unravel the putrid yarn that holds Gotham together. B/J SLASH
1. Chapter 1

A metallic stench of congealing blood resonated, overwhelming the room; peeling the walls of paint. '_They were white once' _he thinks. Maybe. A scream rings out from the patient beside him. That's what they are, _patients_, or so they were told. He was not allowed to think here but he does so anyways, never much of a stickler for rules. A groan chokes on blood; once music to his ears. Not this time. She didn't deserve it.

Another electric hum before the Nazi with the biggest tool he's ever seen (and wasn't that a lovely pun) jams him in the ribs with a modified cattle probe. Jack bite's through his ball gag. Tastes like piss. Everything tastes like piss around here, smells like it to. Except her. She smells lovely. Sometimes she lets him rest his head in her lap as she strokes those sweet scented fingers through his waxy locks. She never complains, about the stench or the food. Never even frowned when they booked her in his cell. Never cried. Never begged for mercy. Not once did her spirit succumb to the nightly beatings of overzealous guards; brutal rapings by her fellow inmates to joyous hoots of perverted orderlies.

Another scream. Softer this time, almost as if her voice gave up on her. Like everyone else did. A vivisection. Now that was cruel. Crueler then anything he's ever done to a woman. Ladies were delicate, should be treated with some suave. Not butchered on camera without a drop of anesthesia. She deserved better. They all did. But they could all burn in hell. He only ever cared about her. The only one who did. Biggest monster having the biggest heart for a woman with the biggest burden to carry. What a load of B. He attempts to sigh through his gag while simultaneously swallow down a glob of spit. The cattle probe announces itself functional and charges for his ribs.

"_What is that?"_

_Kat tapped him playfully on the head. _

"_My baby."_

"_Pfft…baby?" _

"_Yes my baby girl Emma."_

"_Why Emma?"_

"_Mother's name..."_

_Joker stifled a yawn and turned his head in her lap, gently pressing his nose against the inside of her thigh. She giggles, which comes out surprisingly melodic given that they've been denied water for three days straight. Some new experiment requiring them to be severely dehydrated, aka "dry as a sac of hair". Jack gave the ultrasound scan another neutral look._

"_What was your mothers name?"_

"_BBB" he replied with out hesitating._

"_BBB?"_

"_Biggest Bitch Betty."_

"_Oh."_

_Joker liked that "Oh" about as much as he liked talking about his mother. Time for a subject change._

"_Where is she?"_

"_Emma?"_

"_Yeah the wee brat."_

_Another tap on the head. Kat bit her bottom lip and raked blunt nails down the bottom of his scalp, tugging gently at the knotting there._

"_I…I don't know. They took her from me, before she was born. I was eight month along and Emma was due in four weeks time. Some one ordered pizza in 217 and the elderly woman who lived there was deaf as a door, so I buzzed the guy up for her. Next thing I remember, a man was standing in my bedroom when I stepped out of the shower. He stuck me with something and I went into labor. I remember her scream before he left, and I knew she was calling for me to help her but I couldn't even move a finger. By the time I was found, he was in the wind and two days later at the hospital I was arrested and sent here for a psych evaluation. Apparently I aborted my own baby by inducing labor then sliced her to pieces when she was born alive." She paused and whiped away a lone tear traveling crookedly down her cheek, "If I couldn't remember what really happed I would have killed myself long ago."_

_Joker frowned, strangely sympathetic. Love. 'Pfft no such thing'. But what if? Still how can she love something she never saw, never held, never used, never bounced on the pavement or drove down the street? Maybe a woman thing. Or a baby thing. Then again why did people make such a big deal about babies? Wasn't that hard to make one. Why go all out to steal someone else's? Crazy folk no doubt. Crazy soon to be dead folk. Arching his neck in her lap Jack gave her an upside down frown. 'Need to say something. Cut the power before she floods the cell.'_

"_I'll break you out of here sweet cheeks."_

_Kat smiles. Fat tears roll loose and drip of her chin. Leaning down she presses a gentle kiss to the top of his nose. _

"_Time for bed Jay."_

"Come on mommy, we gotta hurry or _eh..._ we might get stuck here." Jack gestured at the ten or so orderlies attempting to break free from the rubber cement on the floor. The foaming liquid inched closer to his hunched over cellmate.

"I can't. _Ah_! It hurts Jay. I can't walk!"

Jack ran over and easily lifting her bridle style rushed for the exits. Half way to the main road he knows something's wrong. Arms that were so tightly woven around his neck now hang loose, with barely any strength behind them. Stopping short of the bushes where he knew his lackeys hid the truck, Jack gently lowered Kat to the ground; unable to look away from the perspiring, yellow face and dull, glassy eyes.

"Where does it hurt?"

She gestured in the general direction of her privates.

"Oh boy," he lets out through a sigh, scratching the nape of his neck with one purple clad hand, "or girl, definitely girl. Ok…girl, let's have a…look-see shall we."

He bravely tugs her shirt up at the same time he tears her pants down a few inches. A black looking bruise roughly the size of a dinner plate swims menacingly atop her pale skin. Around it puffy stitches ooz infected, purple pus. '_Damn'_ and he really loved that colour.

"_Ah_... I think you're…gonna be ok. We just need to get you in the car and then I'll get a doctor to…"

"No."

"Wh…"

"No Jack. I'm dying. I know that. I can feel it," she strains reaching up to briefly brush his cheek with one shaking hand. "Promise me…promise me you'll find my baby?"

Joker nervously glanced away.

"Promise me."

"Ok I promise but I don't even know where to start looking and really you got me confused with a good guy like Batman or that detective in ultra nerd specks…"He looked down but her eyes had already rolled back. Sighing hard Jack lowered her lids. A sign of respect he wouldn't be caught dead showing for anyone else.

"Peace baby girl," he mumbled under his breath, rose and walked away while police 'copters and shouting voices play her funeral march.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce woke to the stringent sound of his alarm clock. Six am on the dot and it's not even a week day. Alfred was far too old fashioned for his own good. Slapping the nauseating device with enough strength to shake the table, the caped crusader flopped back on to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Maybe if he pressed hard enough he would suffocate. Anything to the alternative. Another banquet in the name of justice or some shit like that. Yeah justice for the fat cats, that's what this city is all about.

Alfred barged in without knocking and Bruce didn't give a fuck. Though he might mention in later. Maybe half way through his second (and last) cup of coffee. He didn't trust the old bastard not to put something nasty in his morning Joe should he shout at him before breakfast.

"Morning sir."

"I am aware."

"It appears not sir."

"Tell me Alfred why dose the word morning automatically come with an extension of 'get up'?"

"Because sir, most men sleep well enough to associated those two words with out difficulty."

"Most men don't run around three quarters of the night catching bad guys."

"Touché sir, still I must insist you get up."

"Go away."

"No. The managing director for the banquet will be here at seven thirty sharp. She's quite a lady. I doubt even Batman can withstand her iron personality. That's why I believe it is _prudent_ to have you prim and ready for her arrival to avoid…an incident,"

"It's Prudence isn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"Give me a moment Alfred. I'd like to drown myself in the shower."

"No can do sir, though a shower sounds like a marvellous idea. I will be back in ten minutes and for modesties sake you had better be in that shower or fresh out; or believe me I will not hesitate to drag you in there, kicking and screaming and wash you myself."

Springing free and briskly walking to the bathroom, Bruce snapped over his shoulder before he slammed the door.

"Thanks Alfred that won't be necessary."

"I thought not," whistled the smiling butler.

* * *

The banquet was perfect though nothing less could be expected from the best event planner in the country. Prudence Steal was a woman of many talents. Already in her mid-fifties and still as sprite as a 12 year old girl. What her character lacked in warmth it made up for in her over exuberance for social integration. Prudence knew everyone and everyone knew Prudence. Not everyone liked Prudence, but that's beside the point. Her retrospective career had led her to meeting some very influential people in almost every money making industry in the world; and she made it her sacred duty to introduce Bruce to every last one of them if it killed her. Suggestively flirting with the CEO of Goth Bank, Prudence only dropped her burden for the night around midnight among a group of very drunk, very cheery politicians and their very dazzling, very plastic wives.

"I still believe this year is yours Jerry. Not a man in Gotham can resist voting for you now, not after that speech you gave on anti-terrorism and supporting our troops."

"Yes that was truly inspirational Jeremiah. How brilliantly patriotic you came across in your massage for social justice and defense of our state and families."

Jeremiah Wood, a Gotham senator and in Wayne's opinion one of the biggest boobs in the universe humbly raised his glass.

"Thank you Charlotte, Bill. I must say I'm hopeful for candidacy this year. And I know if I'm elected to run I will no doubt over throw that liberal ass White with out so much as a hiccup. But you know as well as I do we're not out of the woods yet. I will not rest…"

'Ah,' thought Bruce bringing his scotch up to cover his smirk, 'there it is, J. Woods famous verbal diarrhoea.'

"I'm sure you agree Mr. Wayne."

All eyes fell on Bruce who plastered on his charming smile No. 1 and slowly lowered his scotch.

"Yes what is a nation with out a strong political party to lead the way?"

Wood's smile tightened marginally.

"Yes Mr. Wayne though we were discussing why single women who are unable to give proper care to their offspring should be dealt mandatory abortions. For the sake of the infant you understand?"

Bruce was well aware that moments ago his jaw having fainted in shock had thought it high time to retire there, ignored the awkward looks he was receiving. They clearly thought he was a little bit slow. Well fuck them. He wasn't the one sprouting this diabolical nonsense.

"Ah please excuse me," he managed to choke out, and bee lined for the other end of the room before his better judgment shattered along with his scotch glass on top of Woods head. Scratch that. Why waste the scotch? When his wives fist size ruby pendent was so close at hand.

"There you are, my darling boy!"

"Prudence…"

"Did you speak to Jeremiah Wood, his up for candidacy you know? Charming man and great supporter of Wayne Industries."

"Wayne Industries does not require his support."

"Nonsense."

Bruce made to interrupt but she quickly pressed one index finger against his lips.

"Darling before we get into this argument that will most likely require me to slap some sense into you, I must inform you that Alfred contacted me. Apparently he needs you to return to the manor immediately. Something about that unpleasant Joker fellow breaking out of Arkham again. Though I let him know that I own you for the night and that un-banquet related matters can wait he was quite…"

Bruce was already pushing through the crowed.

"Wait darling where are you going?" But he was already out of sight.

"Oh well," Prudence sighed and downed her Martini like a shot, "Mr. Avery how lovely to see you again and this must be your (6th) wife Holly. Hello Darling…"

* * *

"Why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"I only just found out sir, please be reasonable."

"What happened?"

"From what Gordon sent me, it appears that the Joker escaped, holding his cellmate hostage and detaining the orderlies with a rubber cement mixture that held a slow acting hazards' acid so by the time the men were extracted the skin and flesh of their feet was beyond help. The hostage, one Kat Jones institutionalized for infanticide was found dead about a kilometer of the premises (good riddance if you ask me). It is assumed the Joker killed her once he was safely far enough to do so. He used a get away car to disappear into the busy evening traffic. Oh and one more thing. An autopsy report arrived a moment before you came. It appears Miss Jones was brutally raped and savagely beaten over a prolonged period of time. Since she was the Joker's cellmate it is safe to assume he brutalized her extensively while incarcerated. Therefore we must act under the assumption that the Joker is probably far more unhinged at this point then he was during the Dent fiasco."

"Thank you Alfred. Is my suit ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I think its high time the '_caped crusader'_ did his nightly run," he smirked bitterly, turning to walk in the general direction of the Bat Cave.


	3. Chapter 3

Stanly wasn't an attractive man. He knew that. So why'd the bitch have to throw that back in his face. Granted he had some liberties with her while her old man took a leak behind _Phobie's Secret_. Still why be such a drama queen about it. All he did was grope her ass a bit (titty groping might have been involved to, but who's counting). Now watching his boys tie the happy couple up with anchor chains, he puffed on his Cuban cigar and wondered if she thought it was worth it.

"Any last words sugar?"

"Please don't d…" apparently not. He gestured for Bobby to cover her mouth. Last words or not the bitch talked a lot.

"All right toss'em over," he gestured in the general direction of the water, watching the struggle intensify as both soon to be very dead newly weds withered like asps in a snake bag. The splash of water silenced the struggle to a mute stillness. Tragic really. That reminded him. Frasier was on.

"Alright pack it up boys. We better get going before some blasted fisherman catches us out here."

Turning he marched ahead, lackeys respectfully following one-step behind. Just as they made it ashore and started for the parking lot his phone vibrated. A fist flashing the bird popped up on his iphone screen.

"Damn it," he swore and tossed his cigar in the water. Sliding his finger across the screen he hesitantly bought the phone to his ear.

"Hello Stanly."

"Boss."

"I hope you don't mind me calling so late, what with Frasier on and all."

Fuck but how did he know about that? Those dumb sons of bitches in his car must have told him. Fuck if they weren't gonna pay for this later.

"Ah _ha-ha_ boss of course Frasier can _ah _wait."

"Good. Well before you shit you pants Stany take a deep breath. I only called to let you know Mr Big's little squeeze is done with. She won't be a problem any more. And her little girl is his property now so our hands are clean of this mess as of tonight. Enjoy Frasier," and he hung up.

Stanley, profusely sweating but still in complete control; yes definitely in complete control, stumbled for the road towards the two soon to be crippled bootlickers leaning against his car.

'Fuck, what a night. Definitely need Frasier right now and maybe a jumbo glass of bourbon.'

* * *

Jeremiah Wood was reclining in his Jacuzzi, a busty red head eagerly massaging his shoulders from behind, while a petit brunet went down on him in a snorkeling mask. _Bliss_. The phone rang at the same time as his hand made to grabbed the head between his legs to deep throat the bitch to climax.

"Damn it. Computer answer the phone," he growled, withdrawing reluctantly.

The iphone beeped and an image of a rainbow flag flashed across his screen.

"Hello my little fag. How's it hanging? Low and soft or high and hard?"

"I don't know senator. I should be asking you that questions."

"Well if you're close enough to see you might as well join me."

"I don't think so, not tonight. I just called to inform you that the little glitch in the system has been cleared. You have nothing more to worry about."

"And my candidacy?"

"Safe as houses."

Jerry smirked and pushed one hand under water to grab on to stripper A's brainless head.

"You of all people should know my little monkey. Not all houses are safe."

"From my boys no. But you own all my boys senator hence nothing to worry about."

"Say that again."

"Senator?"

"Yep that did it," he moaned through his orgasm holding the bitch down until she swallowed every drop. By the time he came back from his high the phone was beeping, indicating Dominic had hung up. He was not surprised. The way he toyed with his little Italian one would wonder why he hadn't had his _boys_ shoot up the place by now. But Wood knew better. Him and Dom were buddies since elementary school. Their fathers, a dirty cop and a newly instated Mafia boss, were lovers. Wood still remembered when they caught them in the act. Dominic's face at his father's submission. The horror in his onyx eyes at the blatant transgression to his catholic faith. Wood too was horrified but curious and strangely turned on. Then again he was fourteen what did he expect? Humping dogs made him horny.

Rising from the Jacuzzi he let the redhead dry him and slip him into a robe. Turning he started walking towards the bar, throwing over his shoulder.

"Get out now you dumb whore's, moneys' on the table."

They obediently shuffled out, leaving him in blessed silence. Only the gurgle of the Jacuzzi and the scrapping of branches outside the window broke the stillness in the room. He poured himself two fingers of scotch, taking a rather bold swallow to burn his throat. He needed this. Needed to feel the heat. This room was too cold; the entire damn city was too cold.

Should probably call his wife. Tell her he'll be on the first plane home come morning. Tell her to get tickets to Susie's rehearsal, that he'll definitely make it this time. He should probably take her out to dinner, to the opera, make love to her, make her feel wanted and desirable and everything else she was _not_.

Slamming down the empty glass Wood made for the bedroom. Next to the king size bed a bassinet inside a glass tank rocked back and forth with mechanic precision. Inside a baby lay sleeping, sucking her thumb. Beside her in another identical container a python roughly the size of an industrial vacuum hose lay curled into a tight bundle against the side of the tank, eyes staring unblinkingly at the sleeping infant. Jerry smiled and tapped the glass gently, watching in fascination as clear eye lids slid open and a tongue flickered out to touch the glass where his finger was.

"Soon baby."

He walked around the tank and sprawled on top of his duvet covers, drawing his iphone from inside his robe pocket. The blonde took a moment to flick through the pictures until a suitably explicit photo of Dominic caught his eye. Letting one hand travel lazily to his rapidly filling member, he thought.

'What did Shakespeare say "_tommorow, and tommorow and tommorow,"_ but tonight who gives a fuck?'


	4. Chapter 4

Jack floundered about for three days straight. He hardly ate, though that was nothing new; drank coffee in liters and forgone sleep all together in his drive to find Kats' missing baby. It wasn't so much saving the baby, as winning the game. There was nothing he loved more then a challenge. Of course Kat's nightly visits in his sleep deprived, schizophrenic state had nothing to do with it. She was dead and hence what was the point to try and appease her? Not that he ever had to try. That last thought made him sad, as he once more remembered what he lost. Angry at his own light heartedness he turned dark eyes on his shuffling henchmen, narrowing them in contempt.

"Ok who has bad news?"

Not one of the ten men dared to pick up their hand. Joker randomly shot one down.

"Ok who has good news?"

Everyone put his hand up as one.

Jack sighed.

"I thought so. I think we better extend our search boys, you have until the end of tonight before we play Simon Says…my way."

The men immediately rushed from the abandoned warehouse like rats from a gas chamber. Joker reclined in his old, torn, office chair and propped his feet up on top of a broken desk. He was revising possible alternatives for the search when a loud crash broke his trail of thought. _Like_ _a bat out of hell_. Great. Just what he needed, Batman in all his glory when he was down on his game and so exhausted he had to resort to second grade puns.

"Hi Batsy. Long time no see."

"Give it up Joker. I'm taking you back to Arkham."

"Sorry no can do. I'm a man on a mission in search of justice. Surprised yet?"

Bruce growled.

"Ok not up for a chat. Just listen then. I want a baby. You're gonna help me get one."

Batman's eyes stretched several sizes, hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

"...what?"

Jay sighed and smoothly pushed of with one foot, spinning himself around; and really, why did Batsy have to be so thick?

"I said…"

"I heard what you said. Stop playing games Joker and come along quietly."

"Yeah I don't know about that, see I kinda like kicking and screaming…in the right circumstances," damn he was falling for the game. No, bad Joker, stay on track!

"Damn it Bats, cut with the flirting! I have a serious problem. I need to find my ex-cellies baby bef…"

"You killed your '_cellie'_ Joker. You raped and beat her bloody. Do you really expect…"

Joker abruptly bought the chair to a complete stop. Eyes narrowing into onyx slits in vibrant rage. No joke here. He was pissed.

"WHAT…did…you…just…SAY?"

Bruce remained stoic but inside he felt strangely tense. Joker leapt to his feet and circled the desk like an agitated predator. He walked purposefully towards Bruce until they were but a foot apart.

"I…NEVER…touched her!"

"I…"

"You want to know what happened to Kat? Why I give a shit about this baby? Fine! Take me to Arkham!"

"O…k" Batman staggered out, grabbing the killer's upper arm.

"Gonna have to _ah_ cuff you?" he stuttered in apprehension, unconsciously making the statement into a question; and really why was he loosing his nerve? It was just like the Joker to surrender willingly only to play some diabolical game on him along the way.

"_Ohhh_ kinky. I like."

Batman scowled and quickly cuffed the psycho; forcing him into the passenger seat of the Batmobile. They drove in silence all the way to the asylum, Joker occasionally releasing a theatrical sigh but otherwise not moving a muscle or speaking a word. Before they could approach the driveway Joker casually removed one hand from behind his back and reached over to shut down the engine. Bruce flinched.

"How did you…?"

"Skill. Come on we have to walk the rest of the way or else they'll catch us."

"I don't know…"

"Look, desperate times call for desperate measures, I think it's in the bible or something," Batman didn't bother to correct him, "and believe me I'd rather be stripping for Lt. Gordy then going back to that place. But you're all about justice and what's going on in there is about as far from the concept as I am from priesthood."

Batman nodded, not caring to believe a word from the lunatic's mouth until he saw something even resembling evidence. From the front Arkham looked like any average facility for the criminally insane; a garden and big stately gilded gates. In every sense a proper introduction for people who ate their own feces and cut themselves into ribbons with pieces of sharpened, plastic cutlery. They walked around the building until they came to face a wall about ten storey's high. Built flat with no windows and no evident way up or down; an obvious deterrent with out stating so.

"Ok Bats. Let it rip!"

"What?"

"You know the bat-web or whatever it was you used to catch me that night."

Batman nodded and quickly pulled out the mechanic grip-hook, shooting for the metal fencing around the roof. Jerking to test the hold he looked at the Joker, suddenly nervous with the idea.

"Oh come here lover boy," Jack made an exaggerated arm gesture, rushing forward to bear hug his favorite bat. Bruce winced but wrapped one arm around the bony rib cage and shot them up. Joker stage whispering just before they took off, "up, up and away!" Crackling madly all the way up.

Bruce slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up", he hissed when they landed on the roof. Joker licked the offending palm. Recoiling as if burned, Bruce slapped him upside the head.

"Don't worry Bat-boy, they won't hear us above the screaming."

"Screaming?"

Joker just laughed.

"You'll see lover, you'll see…"


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps the most prominent sensory overload came from the noise. Bruce's aural capacity becoming immediately overwhelmed by the violent mixture of screaming, shouting voices, heavy machinery and metal clanging. There was also the undeniable buzz of electricity in the background that made Joker twitch and unconsciously lean against Batman. Or Bruce hoped it was done unconsciously. Shooting the manic clown a nervous sideways look, Batman sidled away a couple of inches. They crouched, huddled together above a grimy skylight, atop the impenetrable "_tower of doom_" as the Joker had labeled it earlier. The filth was beyond management and Bruce had to use his portable glasscutter to see inside.

Past the unbearable volume of noise a strictly clinical stench assaulted his nostrils, forcing Bruce to swallow repeatedly to prevent himself from throwing up. The smell was clearly dominant over the vapid scent of urine and blood, lingering in the background of his senses. Scowling Batman chanced a look at his companion only to find Joker glaring down in to the brightly lit corridor with hateful, narrow eyes. They've been doing his thing between them for quite some time now, and yet Bruce had never seen blatant hate on the smaller man's face before. He simply thought the other incapable of it, being as he was completely barmy. Bruce assumed he expressed his dislikes in other more queer fashions. For instance bursting into giggles while blowing up a hospital might translate into "I really don't care for out current health system and must appeal to the public for change.' However this raw, negative emotion was unfamiliar to Bruce and he didn't know quite how to approach it.

"I can smell and hear the running of a hospital for the criminally insane; but I am yet to see any evidence of abuse," he breached carefully; hoping his calm demeanor won't set of the time bomb that was the Joker in his natural state. But the other man simply shifted his gaze to meet the sooted eyes of the caped crusader. Dark brown softening to the color of chocolate as the psychopath regarded his nemesis with something akin to patient understanding. But that couldn't be right.

"That's because you haven't seen anything yet. Follow me Mr. Bats, I will escort you to the surgery."

Moving before the other man had a chance to process the word "surgery" Joker crossed the length of the roof to the second and only other skylight, crouching down and waiting expectantly for Batman. Sighing the Dark Knight made to follow and crouching down besides the bane of his existence, he used the cutter to free a sizeable section of glass from the wooden framework. Together the two men leaned forward and observed.

* * *

Inside a young man, barely in his teens from the look of his knobbly knees and pale hairless chest, lay strapped to a metal table; a yellow sheet that looked piss stained and threadbare covered his lower half to mid thigh. A team of surgeons in white masks and green overalls stood around him, a couple leafing through notes stuck to their clipboards, occasionally writing something down. Suddenly another man came into sight, he was dressed similarly but held an air of authority about him that easily distinguished him among the rest.

"Lets begin," he announced, voice slightly muffled by the medical mask. Picking up a scalpel from among a row of lined up, silver tools, he proceeded to lean over the boys naval, over the place where Bruce noticed a line had already been drawn with a black marker. The boy having noticed the surgeon's actions, proceeded to manically spasm and twist his strapped down head from side to side, rolling his eyes with wild abandonment, muscles jerking in fear. Suddenly his struggle intensified and gurgling could be heard from behind the ball gag, stuck in the boy's mouth. A trickling noise of liquid hitting metal breached vaguely over the other noise. Sounds like nothing Bruce had ever heard before were leaving the boy's throat in pitiful intervals, cut short by random spasms and prolonged wails of misery. Suddenly the boy's eyes looked up and he caught sight of the two heads observing him through a gap in the skylight. His eyes met Batman's for all of a terrible second before they rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

Moving away from the unconscious boy, the lead doctor removed his blood stained hands from over the carved naval of his 'patient'. Taking care to dump his bloodied scalpel into a medical dish, he shouted over his shoulder as he proceeded somewhere out of sight, quite possibly towards a sink.

"Vivisection of the spleen on Robin John Blake, preformed successfully. Completed at 22:34 p.m. on March 17th of this year. Margaret revive him and fix him up so his wound doesn't get infected. Make sure he's set for surgery 0800 hours tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir"

With that said, the doctor who had long since vanished from view fell silent, his students, the note takers, shuffling in his tread like an eager gaggle of geese. A fat, unfriendly looking nurse approached the youth with a plant sprayer, and began mechanically dosing the boy in the face until he started to twitch in awareness.

"Seen enough?"

Bruce startled at the sound of the Joker's voice, and lifted horror stricken eyes to meet surprisingly sympathetic ones in turn.

"Why?" he croaked, unable to comprehend what he'd just seen committed at one of the most upheld, outstanding, public institutes in the country. An institute Wayne Industries lavished with money, constantly approving grants for further research. Facilitating this. He couldn't help it, in his mind he replayed the boy's eyes meeting his; Bruce wretched violently over the side of his shoulder. Bruce Wayne did this. Batman couldn't help the boy. Wasn't there in time to be his hero. Who was he playing at? He was nobody's hero. Bruce never felt the Joker's arms wrap around his upper frame. Didn't feel himself being lifted to his feet, nor could he remember walking with his arm over the psychopath's shoulders to the side of the building, or being sat on the edge of the stone barrier.

"Come on Bats pull your shit together. We have to get out of here. I have a meeting scheduled with my eyes and ears for midnight and don't want to be late. Punctuality and the likes you know?"

Finally coming out of his stupor Batman observed the green haired hooligan with surprising openness, like he was seeing the other for the first time. The Joker didn't let the implications of such a look go to his head and simply patted the Batman atop his rubber noggin.

"What did you mean, when you said you had to find your cell mates baby?" He asked, suddenly recalling the reason for this night of grim discovery. The Joker sighed and let his shoulders slump forward slightly, a clear sign that exhaustion was catching up to him.

"Kat had a baby before she was put away. A little girl called Emma, named after her mother or some drivel like that. She told me someone forced her into labor then stole the kid from her before she was hospitalized. A bogus story was made up to cover for the guy and she was convicted of infanticide. Just before she died she asked if I could find her little pumpkin and make sure she was well looked after. Obviously I backtracked like my ass was on fire, but she passed before she could hear me out, so the "_promise_" I made had been sitting on me and drumming the London March since my super awesome break out from hell."

Batman listened patiently to the whole story and suddenly felt an inexplicable desire to assist the Joker in any way he could. It was perhaps the only thing they would or could ever agree on. A promise, even one made in death, was not something to be taken lightly. A baby's life was at stake, and for once the painted monster sitting beside him gave two shits about the well being of another living thing. This could get interesting. It could change the course of history between them, and dare he say it even cure the psychotic prince of crime. Ok maybe he was leaping blind here, but there was always hope.

"I'll help you," he managed to growl in his characteristic Batman voice.

Jack snorted and side glanced at the other man.

"What do you say, for the purposes of this study, we drop the pretence huh Bats?"

Extending one purple hand, he used the other to sweep his hair back with dramatic flare.

"Jack Napier at your service. Might I call you Bruce?"


	6. Chapter 6

"What?!"

"Oh don't pretend Bruce-Bat. I've been well aware of who's hiding behind that sexy mask since _way_ before our final show down."

"But…but you made all those appeals to the media to reveal my identity. Why?"

Joker shrugged and rose from his seat.

"I don't know. Seemed like fun; keeping you on your toes."

Batman growled, now that the initial shock of discovery had worn off.

"Are you going to…" he trailed off. Uncomfortable feeling so vulnerable around the other man.

"What? Tell? I haven't so far, have I?"

Batman nodded and stood up, moving towards the rope attached to the grip hook he used earlier. Joker followed close-by, fidgeting slightly with the fringe of his purple gloves.

"_Ah_ mind giving your date a lift home, Bats-Baby?"

"I'll do you one better."

Joker almost stumbled in shock. Did he just hear that right?

"_Ah_…what?"

"I'm going to your meeting and then I'm taking you to my base."

"The bat cave?" Joker almost choked in his excitement. No. Freaking. Way!

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?"

Struck speechless, Jack simply stared at the other man. 'The lights will flash on', he thinks 'someone will shout, "_cut scene_" and I will promptly be escorted off the set. Any minute now. Any minute…'

"Joker!" the actor barked.

"and cut!"

"What?" confused beyond measure Bruce leveled the crazy psychopath with an even stare.

"Nothing," the now cheerful clown, waved his hand dismissively in his face. "I can't wait! Up, up and…"

"Oh be quite."

Jack smirked and all but leapt on his unsuspecting bat.

* * *

When they reached the bat mobile Bruce halted and hesitantly looked over at the imposing gates. He had a decision to make. No way could he get in early enough tomorrow as Bruce Wayne to make a shit load of difference, but if he stormed in now he would only succeed in further blemishing his caped crusader image. He could already see the headlines "**Batman Raids Arkham and Sets Crazies Loose**." Couldn't be any worse than "**Caped Crusader Teaming Up With the Clown Prince of Crime. Governor Petitions They Share a Cell in the Future.**" He chuckled. The Joker or _Jack_ he reminded himself wistfully was already waiting for him, leaning against the passenger side of the car. The man gave him an "_are you slow look_" then proceeded to stub the toe of his loafer into the pebbled ground.

"Can't save them all," he mumbled, as if reading minds came naturally to him.

Grunting Batman turned once more towards Arkham and made his decision. If he didn't go for it now he would spend the rest of his days seeing those haunting eyes. In his dreams, in his waking moments, when he worked, when he showered, when he ran, when he was taking a fucking piss, because that boy saw him, knew that Batman could see the injustice happening to him yet stood aside and let it happen. That boy's death would forever rest heavy on his consciousness.

"When is your meeting?"

Joker nonchalantly looked at his naked wrist.

"In 20 minutes," he said, not bothering to look up.

"Enough time then."

"In this traffic…" Joker whined petulantly.

"What traffic it's almost midnight?"

Joker just humphed, feeling the question hardly dignified a reply.

"You can stay here. I'll be back in 5 minutes, 10 at the most."

"Oh yeah Super Bat? And how will you manage that? You hardly know the lay out of the front desk let alone the entrance to Block X and the location of the surgery."

"Fine, you're coming with me."

"What if I…"

"You're coming with me."

The no-nonsense tone of voice left little room for argument and the Joker obediently followed the caped crusader feeling somewhat slighted yet strangely thrilled at the prospect of assisting Batman. _The_ Batman! 'First time for everything' he thought gleefully.

* * *

They managed to find an open window with relative ease, at the far end of Block A; tumbling somewhat gracelessly into a metal tub of dirty straitjackets. From there the going got tough. Guards swamped the place in pairs, doubled in weaponry after the still fresh fiasco of Jokers escape. Jack lead the other man through dark, narrow tunnels and around suspicious alcoves overrun by cobwebs and small undistinguishable rodents. 'Probably rats," Bruce thinks as another little critter scurried over his boot. Finally they came to a large metal doorway guarded by two burly looking men in Arkham uniform. Both had cattle prods stuck to the side of their belts. Pointing to Batman, Joker made a cutthroat motion with his hand then pointed to the two men. Bruce shook his head and reached into his back pocket, moments later withdrawing a small metal contraption with a needle point at one end and a tube at the other. Pointing the needle at the first guard Batman wrapped his lips around the tube and blew, shooting a dart swiftly into one of the guards, and then following shortly with another one for his partner. The two men went down like boulders in an avalanche.

Walking over to the door Joker aimed a kick at Guard 1's genitalia before letting loose with all his strength, almost toppling himself of balance in the process. The guard grunted but made no further sign of awareness.

"Don't," Bruce scolded and reached over with one hand to pull the other man back.

"You know what this scum did to Kat? Him and his buddy raped her, then threw her in a cage and set different convicts on her watching and jeering, sometimes even filming. Do you know what that's like?" he yelled forgetting they were trying to remain unnoticed.

Batman cringed at the imagery; shamed somewhat by the passion in the other mans voice.

"Alright I'm going to turn my back and start working on this door. I can't see or hear anything until you start with your knife, then I'll beat you down, understood?"

Joker grumbled but conceded with a jerky nod of his head. Batman turned back towards the door, heavily aware that the Joker was having an effect on him. He would never in good consciousness allow another human being to get hurt on his watch but if what the Joker said was true he felt somewhat justified in turning a blind eye. There were no worse crimes than sex crimes. He understood that and surprisingly felt no pity as the grunts and groans filled the room, accompanied only by the buzzing of the cattle probe and the unpleasant smell of burning pubic hair. Occasionally the Joker would mumble something under his breath, where only the word Kat was intelligible, proceeded by more grunting. Finally the decoder beeped in acceptance and the door swung open.

"That's enough," Bruce said, voice stony, leaving no room for debate.

Obediently Joker dropped the cattle probe and stood up from his crouching position over Guard 2, triumphantly stepping over the shaking body and slinking past the larger man in the doorway.

"Thanks Bats," the harlequin laughed, as he let himself brush casually against the armored chest. Bruce pretended it didn't bother him.

Inside the cells were different to Block A, there were no furnishings, no beds, not even a mattress. Most cells had no windows; those that did had tiny round filthy things that reminded one strongly of the windows one might find on a dirty plane. Bruce also took note as they proceeded to move deeper that most cells had no toilet, some had a bucket or a pile of straw and shredded newspapers; the lucky ones had a hole in the ground. Though from the smell coming from those cells he hardly considered them lucky. The faces that still held on to some awareness of themselves and those around them peered fearfully from behind the cell bars, some attempting to hide behind nonexistent barriers or grabbing fistfuls of straw and holding it in front of their faces, eyes shut and chanting fearfully "you can't see me, you can't see me." Batman pitied these fractured souls, already so feeble in body and damaged in mind, now broken in spirit and resembling nothing short of animals. 'Animals waiting to be slaughtered' he thinks darkly as they moved past another cell where a woman, cradling here arms together, rocked them back and forth, humming "Mocking-bird". She looked up as they walked passed her, and Bruce blanched when he came to face her empty sockets. They gapped at him as if seeing and a twisted smile stretched on her shallow face. Unconsciously taking a step away from her, Bruce yelped when a pair of bony arms wrapped around his neck and pressed him hard against the metal bars. A pair of whiskered lips moved to where his ear lay under the rubber, croaking between rasping breath.

"Deliver us."

Then he was released and Batman spun quickly to face the man who had accosted him, but the figure retreated to the far corner of his cell where the light failed to reach him.

"Batman?"

Bruce startled and looked down the hall. Joker stood way ahead, looking back at him questioningly.

"Nothing," he forced himself to growl out and keep in character. He couldn't afford to lose his nerve. Not here. Not now. He will deal with this later. Walking for another minute or so the two men came across a metal door between two cells that held a small wooden plaque with the words "Post-surgery room" messily scrolled on the side in black marker. Snapping the lock easily Batman quickly ushered Jack inside, and became immediately assaulted by the stomach-churning stench of blood and antiseptic. Six beds stood in two rows, but only one was occupied.

"Must be a slow day." Jack muttered and took a seat on the bed closest to him.

"Well Bruce-Bat, do your thing,"

Batman walked over to the young man lying peacefully on his back. With his face lax in sleep and his sable hair in disarray the boy looked pubescent. Shaking with furry, Bruce gently shook the boy by the shoulder.

"Please don't!" the youth yelled. Sitting up with astounding speed and almost knocking his head against Batman's.

"Easy son. I'm here to get you out."

"Hey I'm here too!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and tried to give the boy a gentle smile to make his Batman demeanor seem less imposing.

"Batman," the boy mumbled reaching with both hands to touch the mask. Bruce startled but allowed the ministrations while the youth regarded his suit with reverence.

"Come on we don't have much time."

Not waiting for a response he easily lifted the boy bridal style and made for the door. The boy's eyes widened comically at the sight of the Joker, who gave him a flirty wink and blew a kiss.

"Joker," Bruce barked.

"Coming, coming," he sing-sand under his breath and followed the caped crusader from the room, noting how the boy's features eased in amusement. They managed to make it all the way to the door without incident, until they came face to face with a medical crew attempting to revive the two fallen guards. There was no hiding behind an open door and they soon came face to face with a bunch of startled medics and nurses. Like often during a tragic catastrophe there was a respective moment of silence where both teams appraised each other in shock and bewilderment. Finally a nurse dropped a jar of antiseptic and the shattering of the glass broke the tension. Bruce knew he didn't have enough darts for all of them and proceeded to throw the youth over his shoulder, push joker in front of himself and barrel through, occasionally knocking-out someone dangerous looking with his remaining hand. They managed to do this all the way to Block A, where with a flash of good fortune they found one of the outside garage doors open. Running through the kitchen they darted past a startled crew of packers unloading boxes of meat and made for the main gates. By the time they reached the Batmobile, where Bruce unceremoniously dumped the youth into Jokers unsuspecting arms, the entire building had been made aware of the escapee's. The wailing of the distress sirens could still be heard miles away when the two men and the boy raced into the cover of the city.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N : Stole 'Ink" from The Punisher. He was played by the super sexy Keram Maliki- Sanchez ;)

LOL ok I was like reaaally tired the other night and posted the wrong chapter from one of my other stories, so sorry guys, all fixed now!... (blushing furiously)

* * *

"Ok take a left here."

"Why can't you just give me the address? I have a GPS you know?"

Joker gave him a blank look.

"How would I know the address?"

Batman snorted and rolled his eyes, which earned him an endearing tip of the head from the Joker; and he did not just think that (mental slap). The boy had been quiet for most of the get away and Bruce couldn't help slowing down to look over at the slumping youth, sitting somewhat awkwardly on Joker's lap like a child.

"He passed out a little while ago."

Bruce turned back to the road, glaring at a nearby stop sign like it had personally offended him. There he goes again with the telepathy. Was he really that easy to read?

"Hurry up and turn at the next traffic light. He's bleeding again."

Bruce spun his head back around to stare at the youth. Watched Jack turn the hand he was using to support the boy's naval palm up, the surface glistening with fresh blood. He floored the gas.

* * *

Inside, the warehouse was already full of chattering men. Since they entered inconspicuously through the back door, they could see several of them sitting on the ground playing cards, a couple were wrestling on the ground surrounded by cheering onlookers, some of whom were clutching fistfuls of money. Several men were on their phones, chatting or typing messages. Jack ignored everyone and for the moment everyone ignored him. He led Batman to another office where a ratty couch stood against the wall opposite a small desk and two chairs.

"Put him over there for the moment," he waved at the couch and walked over to the desk, pulled out the top draw and began hazardously pulling things out, throwing them over his shoulder. Bruce did as ordered and gently deposited the frail body on the couch.

"Found it!" the clown yelled out in triumph and was hurriedly shushed by his companion.

"Oh yeah…_ah_ sorry."

Bruce didn't think he ever heard that particular word come from the Jokers. Ever. But chose not to comment.

"Look!" Jack exclaimed in a stage whisper. Bruce saw him raise a ratty first aid kit above his head. He looked so pleased with himself that Batman found himself smiling before he knew it. He made a late save with a gruff reply.

"Bring it over here."

Jack obligingly skipped over and quickly kneeled next to the wounded boy, handing over the metal box like an eager puppy handing over a stick. Bruce opened the kit and quickly found some gauze that could be used to slow the bleeding but the antiseptic had expired and he wasn't about to risk further damaging the wound.

"This stuff is no good," Bruce growled shaking the small glass bottle, "and the wound will likely get infected now that the stitches tore, if we don't apply some antiseptic. I have everything at the mansion. How long is your meeting?"

"Oh we play so many wonderful games," Jack exclaimed like an excited pre-schooler, "until the last man's standing." He paused and scratched the back of his head. "Then I shoot him down and we're done."

"No."

"What! Oh come on Bats, we have so much fun. Today we're playing Simon says and…"

"I said no. Can't you just send them back out? What good are they dead?"

"It's the principle of the matter," Jack said, slowly like one might when talking to a slow child.

"What matter? Just go out there and send them away, the boy doesn't have much time."

"And I should care because…"

"I do!" growled Batman and gave the prince of crime a venomous glare, "and if he doesn't make it because you decided to drag things out playing Simon Says, I will throw you off Gotham State."

Joker smirked but sarcastically put his hands up in mock defeat.

"Noted," he said through a chuckle and got up to leave the room.

* * *

"Ok boys! Here I am!" Jack yelled out across the warehouse, at once silencing the room.

"News?"

Some shuffling and coughing broke the hush but otherwise nothing.

"I see, well that's too bad. I guess I'll have to send you back, and since I have other priorities right now, our game will be postponed. Of course I feel terrible so we'll hold another meeting tomorrow night and I promise to make up for my lack of attention with a package deal, Simon Says and Hide or Seek a Bullet. Ok?"

The stillness was absolute.

Jack smirked, raised his hands and clapped once.

"Shoo!" and they scattered like cockroaches.

* * *

"All done!"

Bruce looked over his shoulder at the smirking psycho reclining leisurely against the door frame.

"Alright let's go." Picking up the youth with as much care as possible, he started for the door way. Together they made it almost all the way to the Batmobile when the sound of running feet in the distance echoed to them. They turned and watched a young man, with short dark hair and glistening black eyes run over to them, stopping a few feet from the Joker and on reflex stooping somewhat in submission. He startled at the sight of Batman but quickly caught himself and turned to address Jack.

"Sir…"

"I'm not a 'sir'"

"I…I'm sorry Mister Joker", stuttered the terrified youth, shuffling his feet in fear.

Jack elbowed Bruce and gave him a side-long look.

"Hear that? I'm Mister Joker, and you thought I had no class." Turning back to face the pale boy he narrowed his eyes but spoke cheerfully.

"What can I do for you pretty lady?"

"I…I have some information."

Jack's eyes glistened in greedy excitement.

"Go on…"

"The owner of the Bar where I part-time casually, has a brother who works for Dominic Ippolito, the…"

"Mafia boss," Bruce supplied and watched in amusement when the kid almost pissed himself at being addressed by _the_ Batman.

"And?" Jack waved his hand impatiently in a 'hurry it up' gesture.

"His brother said Dominic called him and told him the '_problem was taken care of_', then he said the '_bitch_' deserved nothing less, for going against '_his_' wishes and keeping the baby. He said the way the father's handling the problem he '_wouldn't wish it on anyone's kid_'. His exact words sir, I promise."

"Mister Joker," Jack corrected distractedly while rubbing his chin between two fingers, a distant look in his eyes. Bruce was standing beside him, equally deep in thought when the boy in his arms stirred and moaned pitifully.

"Ja…Joker," Bruce corrected himself remembering the other man's presence. "We should go."

"Yeah…yeah lets go." Pulling himself out of his stupor, he looked the youth over with intrest.

"What's your name."

"Ink si…Mister Joker."

"Right. Do me a favour and you're excused from tomorrow's 'games'. I want you to pick up some extra shifts at your job Gel-tip, and report to me every little detail. Can you do that?"

Ink nodded mutely.

"Ok, go." He watched the kid turn and start jogging back down the ally. "Wait!" he shouted after him, watching the boy stop dead in his tracks, tripping in his haste to comply.

"Dominic's man, whats his name?"

"Stanley. Stanley Devitto."

Jack gave the boy a soldier's salute and turned back towards the Batmobile. Bruce indicated to the open passenger seat.

"Hurry up, will you."

Jack smirked and swaggered the couple of steps to the car.

"Oh Batsy…" he said, when he reached the passenger side door. Grabbing the top with one hand he leaned over to wink seductively, before dropping himself into the seat. Bruce stepped around to deposit the boy into Joker's lap. As he was drawing back, he felt the ghost of fingertips on the inside of his thigh.

"So impatient," purred his wicked companion.

Growling Bruce slapped the hand away, quickly taking the driver's side.


	8. Chapter 8

The Bat Cave was strangely bright, when the Batmobile pulled into the garage. All became clear when a smiling if somewhat weary Albert stepped from behind a pillar and rushed towards them. Batman climbed out first, immensely grateful for reflective windows on the car.

"Sir, I'm so relived to see you well. When you were out later than usual I thought something must have happened too…Master Wayne, did you bring someone else here?"

"What?" Bruce reverted to his usual voice but kept the mask on. Turning to follow the butlers wide eyed gaze, he watched stupefied as the tip of one purple finger drew a smiley face on a patch of foggy glass.

"Joker," he growled

"The Joker, sir!" Alfred took a step back and stared at Bruce like he was an inch short of being certifiable.

Bruce pulled his mask off and lifted one hand up in a consoling gesture.

"Alfred, I can explain…"

A rapping knock interrupted, ever so timely, and Bruce found he couldn't have possibly been more grateful.

"Later…I'll explain later. Right now I need your help."

Walking around to the passenger side door, Bruce popped the lock to reveal a frazzled looking Joker, stroking the back of the boys head, while trying to ease the youth out of a nightmare that was making him moan and jerk erratically in the older man's arms.

"A little help…"

"Alfred!" Bruce yelled while attempting to lift the boy, bridal style out of the Joker's lap. For some reason the youth had grown attached to the Prince of Crime and maintained a tenacious hold around the other man's neck. Joker guffawed but eased the clingy arms from around his neck, giving the whimpering teen a consolatory pat on the cheek.

"Alfred!"

"No need to yell sir I'm right here."

Bruce spun around only to bump lightly against Alfred's chest. The butler no longer looked shocked, but rather contemplative and brooding. His eyes moving from the Joker reclining lazily against the passenger seat to the youth dressed in an Arkham hospital gown.

"This way," he said and spinning on his heels, led the way for Bruce towards the small infirmary that hasn't been used once since the creation of the Bat Cave.

"Put him down on the bed and go tend to your 'guest' Master Wayne. I will take care of the boy."

Bruce nodded and as gently as possible rested the boy's body on the medical bed.

"Oh and do change, I gather I'm right in assuming that your 'guest' is well aware of your identity."

This was said with a slight scythe and Bruce winced at the betrayed way Alfred glared at him while washing his hands with disinfectant over the sink.

"Yes I will," he turned to leave but paused in the doorway and quietly though never more sincerely muttered, "thank you".

In the car park he found Joker curiously playing with the motor cycle that Bruce still hadn't gotten around to fixing since he smashed the engine to pieces, swerving to avoid hitting Jack all those mouth ago. The clown was fiddling with the severed wires, and when a spark shot out, jumped back as if stung, tripped over his feet and fell on his ass. Bruce struggled to suppress a smirk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, while steadfastly removing his weapons and armor and carefully placing them into a vault.

"Trying to figure out how you used this thing to nose dip a 40 ton truck."

"I didn't haul the truck, I used a string of wire and a couple of lamp posts."

Joker hummed, moved on to the computers and started fiddling with the keyboard. Suddenly the three-screen alcove lit up with mirror images; two heavy-set, grizzly looking prisoners in orange overalls were pounding a slim young man from both ends. The blonde twink was moaning in delirious abandon, he's voice along with the steady grunting of his partners filled the echoes cave with obscene noises.

"Joker!" Bruce yelled, after a moment of simply staring, stupefied at the screen.

"What, it's your porn, not mine. I just found it was all."

Bruce was about to yell that he never so much as searched for porn on the internet since he was fresh out of puberty and Alfred forbade him from buying porn at the supermarket; when suddenly the computer screens turned black and the ecstatic cries were cut off mid orgasm. Bruce spun around and to his horror saw Alfred calmly extending a remote towards the computer station. Joker just poked his tongue out at old butler, muttering in a loud whisper, "spoil sport."

"I think we've all had quite enough excitement for today. Why don't we go upstairs Master Wayne; where I will prepare tea and you and your 'guest' can tell me everything, from the beginning."

"Yes Alfred," Bruce resolutely glared at his bare feet, not daring to so much as meet the older man's eyes, when the other walked passed him to the lift.

"Pfff, what's his problem? You'd think he never got laid in his life, the way he turned all pale at the sight of a little action."

"Joker…"

"Jack"

"Jack," Bruce amended patiently, "please, I would rather not think of Alfred and porn in one sentence."

Jack grinned and inclined his head in a mocking display of sympathy. "Sure thing Bruce Bat."

Together they made their way quietly to the kitchen, Bruce having popped into the shower room to quickly change into some sweats and a t-shirt. He offered a change of clothe to the Joker as an after thought, to which the ever amused clown replied, "Oooh you don't have to make up excuses Bruce Baby, If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask," followed by a wink so sinful in nature that it had Bruce charging from the bathroom and all but sprinting down the stairs and to the kitchen, from where a waffling scent of fresh scones and blueberry jam was already reminding him that he was yet to eat since yesterday's lunch.

* * *

"So what you are saying Master Wayne, is that Arkham Institute has been conducting gruesome medical experiments on their patients?"

"Yes, and the staff are all aware. At least the lower levels where the criminally insane are kept are all aware of the goings on." Bruce sighed and stirred his tea with minimum enthusiasm. "You should have seen them Alfred…I don't think I'll ever forget those faces."

Alfred nodded at the genuinely troubled demeanor of his friend, master and more often then not, surrogate-son.

"That is indeed troubling. I however fail to understand your 'guest's' involvement in the whole thing."

Bruce sighed and shot a sideways glance at the man in question, who seemed so bored by the conversation that at some point during the last 15 minutes his attention shifted to rearranging scone crumbs into forming what was suspiciously starting to look like B+J= 'Heart'.

"Ah," Bruce clanked his saucer dish, in a fruitless attempt to distract his butler from noticing the masterfully arranged patter. "Well…the Joker is here, because his cell mate's baby was kidnapped, and he needs my help to find it."

"Her," Joker supplied not looking up from the crumb he was carefully pushing into place to complete a heart.

"Her," Bruce amended carefully, than shot Alfred a strained grin.

"I see," the butler said and then he rose and started to methodically clear the table.

"And will he be sleeping in your room or should I prepare a guest room?"

"Bat's room." "Guest room." Was said simultaneously and Alfred turned to regarded the two men with curious amusement.

"I see," than turning back to the sink he began to wash the dishes and nothing was heard from him until the last plate was placed on the drying rack. Turning around while drying his hands on a dishtowel, Alfred observed the two men with pale, knowing eyes. One completely focused on him, the other focused entirely on his assemble of crumbs.

"I will prepare a guest room and if you so choose, at some point in the night, to share a room," Bruce attempted to interrupt but was silenced by one arm and a scornful glare from his butler, "I shall place the two rooms in close proximity to each other so as to insure you do not amble about too much and disturb my rest."

"Well played Jeeves," Joker praised while rearranging the crumbs to form a soccer net and flicking the larger crumbs through the gates.

* * *

A little while later, while Jack was occupying the upstairs shower and singing "Oh my darling Clementine" with enough exuberance to be perfectly heard downstairs, Bruce took Alfred aside for a quick chat.

"What in blazes did you mean by that?"

"I'm not quite clear what you're talking about sir."

"I mean don't you think the, 'if you decide to share the same bed' comment was a touch uncalled for? What in the world gave you the preposterous idea that I was fucking him? The man is a lunatic Alfred and I only just met Jack tonight, though I wouldn't wonder that in the long run he will be just as much of a craze-o as the Joker."

Alfred stared at his young master, unimpressed. Just as he opened his mouth to comment, Bruce interrupted him all over again.

"Further more I don't affiliate myself with rambunctious, criminal psychopaths Alfred, I have standards!"

"That's all very well sir," Alfred finally managed to cut in, "but I couldn't help notice how your expression gentled into fondness when you observed him earlier, handling our young patient."

Bruce gapped open-mouthed a couple of time, until he raised one hand and not so gently jabbed his old friend and butler in the chest.

"I didn't…I wouldn't…and even if I did it means nothing! You hear me nothing, Alfred! I was simply struck dumb by such an unexpected show of affection from a man who just a few month ago gladly blew up a hospital."

"Regardless sir, I have known you since you were small enough to hang of my hip while I cooked dinner. I know when that look crosses your face you are not far from falling…"

"Don't say it," Bruce screamed. "And don't you dare say you know anything about me, when you insist on spewing this disgusting nonsense. You're just a senile old coot!" With that Bruce swiftly scaled the stairs and slammed his bedroom hard enough to shake the door frame.

It was only after Alfred regained his bearings and tried to cover his hurt by firmly running his hands down the front of his butler vest, that the servant realized the off-key singing had long since stopped.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey, so I'm still alive. Just thought I'll let you know by posting a new chapter :P Thanxxx everyone for reviewing so far, and BreakOnThrough it was Joker browsing some porn on the internet lolz, not actually on Bruce's computer :P

* * *

Bruce woke before sunrise and strangely felt unable to go back to sleep. Eventually giving up on the doomed venture, he heavily rose from bed and made his way to the bathroom. Taking a quick shower and putting on a pair of loose trakies and a black wife beater, he walked quietly down the stairs and to the basement; a call had to be made. He switched the lights on and still somewhat lazily, for repetitive lack of sleep, shuffled over to the central computer. Aware enough to cautiously switch the system to mute before turning on the monitor, incase that porno was still holding the screen hostage. And how did the clown find gay porn so quickly on the net? Bruce felt a strange heat rise at the idea that the prince of crime was no stranger to internet porn, particularly sites that catered to the kind of activity displayed earlier. Thankfully the screen came up blank, with the usual desktop asking him to log in. Bruce typed in the anonymous Batman username and password, that allowed him to communicate via email and Skype with out being traced. Checking to see that the camera safely flashing in off mode, Bruce sent a Skype call to Gordon's private number.

"Hello," the voice sounded scratchy and resigned.

"Gordon," Batman replied, easily falling into character.

"Batman," the voice now sounded alert, though more than a touch apprehensive. A long silence followed, where Bruce could detect faint shuffling noises as Gordon walked out of his bedroom, to let his wife sleep "what's going on with you? Do you know you have the whole city out there looking for you right now? Why on earth did you break into Arkham last night, and with the Joker of all people? I…"

"Listen to me Gordon," Bruce rolled his eyes in resignation and took a seat in the plush desk chair; this might take a while. "I need your help."

"No shit," interrupted the other, sagely. Bruce let his eyes widen with a smirk. It appears the Lt. had some balls on him after all, and more than a hint of attitude buried under layers of passive façade.

"The Joker," he continued quickly, before the Commissioners testosterone levels kicked any higher and he decided to hang-up the phone, "is innocent of his cell-mates murder. She was butchered by the medical staff at Arkham."

"But that's impossible, Batman…"

"It's true, she was also raped there, but the Joker never touched her. He escaped in order to get her out."

"Batman, that inmate was found guilty of infanticide."

"Long story, but look into it more and I'll bet you'll find no evidence at the crime scene that couldn't have been planted there. She was innocent Gordon."

"And you know this because Joker told you," Gordon couldn't sound more skeptical if he tried.

"Yes. After everything I've done for this city, for once just trust me on this. The Joker promised the inmate that he would find her baby; and I agreed to assist him because I have reason to believe this child is in danger."

"Ok," hushed the detective in resignation, "what do you need me to do?"

"Order a full investigation into Arkham, particularly the lower levels. Make sure you interview the more lucid patients in Block X, that's the one that has an entrance through Block A. I guarantee you will find what is happening there worthy of investigation."

"And?" Something told Gordon, that wasn't all.

"Stay out of my way. I'm going after this baby and I might need to get dirty to get to the truth."

"As Commissioner, I'll do my best to keep the heat off you; but Batman you should know, what you did last night won't look good in todays' paper."

"I know, but it doesn't matter. I never held favor with this city; I do what's right and maybe one day that will be enough, but for the moment I need to rely on the few people who care enough to believe in me."

Gordon sighed, and soft ruffling of the bed sheets could be heard on the other end of the line, before the man replied.

"I'll do my best. Good Luck."

Bruce hung-up and sagged heavily into the chair.

"Was that really the Commissioner of Gotham?"

Bruce spun around so hard he almost did a full circle in his seat, barely catching himself with one foot. In front of him stood the young patient, wearing a pair of similar trakies to his own and a white t-shirt Bruce recognized as part of his old high school uniform. He looked pale and fragile, but the curious look on his face made him appear more put together than the night before.

"Yes. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

The boy shook his head and continued to frown at Bruce like he couldn't quite figure him out.

"You saved me."

"Yes."

"Why? I'm one of the bad guys."

Bruce frowned and leaned forward in the seat, placing his elbows atop his knees.

"What did you do?"

"I stole basketball shoes from that Nike store on Felloway Street."

"And…"

"That's it," shrugged the confused boy.

"Why did they put you in Arkham?"

"The nuns from the orphanage had my supervisor Mr. Challis testify in court that I'm unstable, and require 24hr hour supervision." Bruce winced, most likely they thought the boy's behaviour reflected badly on the orphanage and might incur budget cuts from Wayne Enterprises.

"Are you?"

"I don't think so,' mumbled the youth and gingerly scratched his arm.

Bruce sighed and got up from his chair to approach the boy. The teen startled and flinched when a firm hand landed on his skinny shoulder; but eased up when he only received a reassuring squeeze.

"Than you're not a bad guy, and everyone makes mistakes. What they did to you in there; no one deserves that; no matter how bad their crime."

"And the Joker, sir; does he deserve that?"

Bruce frowned and pat the shoulder reassuringly.

"No one," he said firmly, "the Joker, no matter how much damage he inflicted on the community in the past, needs therapy and maybe even compassion in order to understand him and find out the cause of his destructive character. Mindlessly cutting into people with no purpose does nothing but cause pain, ultimately damaging the mind beyond repair."

John nodded and stepped forward, sagging heavily into Bruce's chest. The older man lifted the youth carefully in his arms and carried him to the infirmary where he lay him down on the single bed and wrapped him tight in the blanket. John was watching him the whole time, with a grateful if somewhat dazed look in his eyes.

"He's not so bad sir, the Joker. I think you might be right, about him needing a bit of understanding," muttered the boy before he was interrupted by a massive yawn. Bruce smiled and tucked the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Sleep," he said and brushed the hair back of the boy's face in gentle strokes until John's breathing evened out and he was fast asleep. Getting up, Bruce quietly left the room and maid his way to the garage where he immediately spotted the Joker, occupying his chair and pushing himself to spin around in hazardous circles.

"Bruce-Bat, I want breakfast," he announced, his spinning uninterrupted.

"_Shhh!_ Joker, how long have you been here," asked the crusader, suddenly suspicious at the clown's timely appearance.

"Long enough to know how highly you stake my chances for social integration."

Bruce had the decency to look sort of sheepish, though on his face the look didn't do much to give away his embarrassment. Jack caught himself mid-spin facing the desk and opened a new browser.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching."

"For porn?" Bruce approached the desk somewhat wearily.

"No silly," Joker let loose a stream of giggles, "then again maybe some hot Italian," Joker paused mid speech and gave a loud sardonic snort, intriguing Bruce enough to look over the clown's shoulder. "Or not so hot Italian, man is my face red; this guy's face looks like it's a had a few too many run-ins with the land mower."

Bruce couldn't help agree. The mug shot of a man, glowered menacingly at them through heavy bangs. The left side of his face looked raw and broken, as if the skin and muscle were torn off and put through a meat grinder before being papier-mâchéd back into place. He had broken bloated lips, that even stretched in a scowl showed signs of scaring that resembled a less significant replica of the Jokers' own scars. Bruce quickly scanned for a name on the plaque but their was only a number.

"Who is it?"

"Stanley Devitto."

"We need more information, we're leaving after breakfast."

"_Ah_…ok, but see I have this thing on my face, it's embarrassing really how obvious it is; and people tend to recognize it where ever I go. Then they start screaming, throwing things or more likely running in the opposite direction and…"

"I thought of that," Bruce cut in, unable to suppress a touch of excitement in his voice. It didn't come easy but while tossing and turning last night over that pointless fight with Alfred, it struck Bruce, that the Joker will need something to conceal his scars if they were to go out inquiring in broad day light. He remembered the skin-colored silicon mould Lucius gave him a few months back. Said it might be prudent to cover up his scars so no one he took to bed would catch on to his other persona. It was a touch too dark, him being quite a bit more tanned than the pale blonde, but Bruce figured he could use some of his ex-girlfriends' foundation.

"I have stuff that will cover up the scars and the rest you can wash off in the shower."

Jack looked ready to protest, but the brunette, lost in the midst of his enthusiasm, silenced him by slamming his hands atop bony shoulders and leaning in until their noses all but touched.

"Think Jack what's at stake here. Are you really going to put your pride ahead of Kat's baby?"

Joker scowled, frowned, smirked and head butted him. Bruce winced and pulled back, gingerly rubbing his forehead with one hand and glaring through his fingers at the cheerful man, who after blowing a raspberry at Bruce, resumed his spinning.

* * *

"I look like Michael Jackson!" whined the Joker for the tenth time in a row, while subconsciously rubbing the smooth plastic over his scars.

Bruce rolled his eyes, "It doesn't look that bad, in fact if I didn't know you had scars I would just assume you had a face lift."

"That doesn't make me feel any better Bats. I'm too young for facelifts and why would I want one? I've been told plenty of time that people could_ kill_ to have my character face."

"I'm sure," sighed the other. They had left shortly after a quick meal that Alfred prepared for them and left on the table. His desire not to eat with them, a clear indication that he was still pissed as hell; but Bruce had bigger problems. After the meal it took half an hour to convince Jack to shower alone, with the prince of crime clinging to his arm and begging for assistance, than clinging to his torso and begging for sex finally clinging to his leg and begging not to be left alone. Bruce deserved a gold star for effort, when he finally managed to get the other man safely in the shower, washing himself; and all it took was assisting the giggling clown with removing his clothe. Strangely the blonde had not washed his hair the night before and it took him almost an hour and two shampoo bottles to get the green tinge out of his locks, than of course he insisted he needed to condition with another two bottles to even out Bruce's supply. Finally two hours later, dressed casually in one of Bruce's shirts and the smallest pair of jeans he could find; hair blown dry and fluffy; Joker started applying the mould to his face and that's when the complaints' started.

_'I look like my face melted…'_

_'This stuff is itchy, I'll just go wash it off…'_

_'I look like a freshly embalmed corpse…'_

_'I look ugly Bruce-Bat. You can hardly stand to look at me, how can we ever make love again?'_

The last one earned the Joker an incredulous look, but still somehow they made it to the car; Bruce decided on a Jeep, in order to stay more inconspicuous; and all the way to the city, without incident. God bless his iron patients. Now they were sitting on a stake out, outside a shady looking joint in one of the more questionable parts of town. Earlier Gordon texted Batman Stanley Devitto's most common hunting ground and told him the approximate time frame.

"Can't believe we have to juts sit here; why can't we just go in and bust the place."

"Because," hissed Bruce, his patients running low, "I'm not Batman and you are not the Joker, right now we are Bruce and Jack and our job is to follow Devitto to Dominic."

Jack snorted, but suddenly narrowed his eyes in the direction of the dive.

"Well if it isn't Mince Face himself…"

Bruce turned his face forward and quickly caught sight of Devitto and two other heavy set men, getting into a stretch Bentleigh. They pulled away from the curb. Bruce started the engine and followed.


End file.
